


Right Hand Man

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Right Break [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur broke his right arm, so Ariadne offered to help take care of everything he might need. That keeps them pretty close while they're working, and even when they're not.</p><p>For the inception_kink prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/12989.html?thread=29023421#t29023421">Ariadne taking care of injured Arthur irl.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Hand Man

"So how did you do this, again?"

Arthur resisted the urge to snarl at Ariadne. It wasn't her fault he had been clumsy enough to tumble down the stairs and break his arm. At least it hadn't happened while he was anywhere near the current subject he was investigating. It did screw up the image of the unflappable and ever diligent point man, however.

"I fell," he managed to say. He was still sore in spots, and he didn't know how he was going to manage to get himself undressed when he got home, or dressed in the morning. His right arm was in a cast, for god's sake. He could shoot a gun and fight hand to hand combat ambidextrously, but that was about it. He still preferred hand written notes in his Moleskines, since it forced him to really stop and think about what mattered in a file, and he was right handed. _Right handed._ As in, the hand with a cast that he could no longer use for the next six weeks. And then there would be physical therapy after that if he was too deconditioned, and he _knew_ something like this would just screw up his accuracy with his Glock until he put another fifty hours or so at the range. There was only so much he could expect to do with a squeeze ball in the meantime.

Ariadne sat down in front of him. At least she wasn't laughing. Eames had been _insufferable_ about the whole thing, and even Yusuf had gone off to his makeshift lab to mutter and smile at himself. Arthur wasn't used to being clumsy or awkward, and it burned. "Need help?" she asked quietly. It wasn't out of malice, as Eames' request had been, but a genuine desire to help him out of his discomfort.

Arthur sighed and nodded. "Please." It was an unfamiliar word on his tongue, but Ariadne's smile seemed to be worth it.

"I can start right now. I can't do much to build a level until we know how we're going to do the job."

It wasn't a slight on his point skills, but Arthur almost felt as if it was one. He glowered a bit, and Ariadne looked at him in concern. "Does your arm hurt?" she asked softly.

 _It's more my pride,_ he almost said, but didn't. "A little," he told her. It wasn't the complete truth, since the hospital had given him some really good pain medication before setting and casting his arm, but he could feel the dull ache in the bone.

Ariadne leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. In the blink of an eye, she was sitting back and smiling gently, as if it never happened. "So, where should I start?"

Arthur wasn't sure how to take this kiss, and he decided to ignore it as she seemed to. He put a damper down on the thoughts that wanted to run rampant through his mind, most of them having to do with Ariadne playing nurse for him. He cleared his throat and willed himself to stay in control. "I need to gather up more information on our subject," Arthur admitted with a sigh. "I was breaking into City Hall when this happened," he said, lifting his right arm.

"Well, then... Isn't it a good thing that his company is thinking of buying up new property downtown?" Ariadne said in a lighthearted tone. Arthur frowned at her; the subject's real estate development company wasn't considering anything of the sort. "So as one of the new representatives on the team, you do have to check various properties to see if there are liens on them, or if the structural integrity is sound before you can advise him to authorize the purchase, right?"

He caught on to what she was saying. "Bluff our way in."

"You can't sneak in your usual way, so this will have to do. And it's a good thing your secretary just happens to know a bit about architecture."

He couldn't help but smile at her. "Just a bit."

It was absurdly easy to get to City Hall that afternoon and go into records. Ariadne played the part of overworked secretary really well, and managed to bond with the record keeping intern as Arthur pursued the documents he wanted. He had unrestricted access, sorting through all the records and deciding which ones he needed to take notes on. Those he put aside, and made a separate pile for the documents that he would have to refile on his own. Ariadne had breezed through the paperwork, overwhelming the poor intern that was supposed to monitor the documents and track whoever was looking at the paper records. Somehow, the intern didn't even seem to know that they had never signed for anything.

Ariadne urged the intern to take a quick break, and the intern didn't even seem to realize that this was somethings he shouldn't be allowing. Arthur guessed that he was overwhelmed with her easy smile and the way she leaned into him to make the suggestion. He was jealous for no good reason, even if this was all an act. He felt all growly and possessive when she returned, which really didn't make much sense. They weren't dating. He didn't have that kind of hold over her, no matter how much he might want to.

She took the notes quickly and efficiently, if with messier handwriting than his would have been. She helped to refile the documents they didn't want the intern to know they were looking at, and kept the ones matching their cover story out to be refiled properly. The poor intern returned to his post about five minutes later, looking flustered and flushed, and Ariadne didn't even seem to notice the way he kept trying to catch her eye.

"Did he ask for your number?" Arthur commented as they left City Hall.

"Probably. I told him to look me up in the phone book. I don't think he realized he never got our names."

"You are devious," Arthur told her appreciatively.

Ariadne laughed. "I learned from the best."

***

Arthur gave up on having his hair combed and slicked back or even tying a tie. He had trouble with his shirts and getting everything looking as polished as he would like. As far as he was concerned, that made him look unprofessional, even if he couldn't help it. There was only so much he could do properly with his left hand. He wasn't about to call Ariadne and ask her to help him get dressed in the morning or comb his hair. That was silly, even if his own difficulty left him feeling sloppy and uncoordinated. That was his own problem to deal with, not hers.

He frowned at the knock on his front door. He couldn't quite get his shirt to align properly, and he had nicked his throat while shaving. Having a cast on his right arm _sucked._ With a sigh, he went to his front door and opened it. The only ones that knew where he lived were Cobb and Eames, so he didn't have to make sure he had a loaded gun in hand.

Scratch that. Cobb, Eames and Ariadne knew where he lived.

"I should've thought of this yesterday," she said apologetically, holding a bakery box for breakfast. "I hate to think of how long it must have taken you to look so good yesterday."

Arthur blinked. "Oh. Well..."

Ariadne was already entering his apartment and plunking down the bakery box on his kitchen table. "Hey, sit, lemme take care of you." Before he even knew what he was doing, she had maneuvered him onto his couch and she was brushing his hair back into his usual style, working in a little of the pomade he favored. She occasionally moved around to his front to check that she was getting it right, which he was starting to find amusing. She grinned at his smile, then went back to smoothing his hair back. "I hope it's not too presumptuous to be doing this," she murmured. "But I did promise I'd help you, and it only occurred to me after I left that it would be horribly difficult to get dressed in the morning. Especially since it's so much harder to look professional and put together while you've got a cast on your arm, you know? I probably should've called first, but you looked so tired last night when you left the office."

"It's all right," Arthur said, finding that he meant it. He looked up at Ariadne with a smile. "I hope Eames didn't give you too tough a time when you asked how to get here."

"Oh, I asked Cobb. I figured I would be nice and spare you the innuendo when I drove you in."

He was blinded by her smile for a moment before that sank in. "You're driving me in?"

"Yep. I saw your car. You really shouldn't be shifting gears with your arm in a cast. Think of it as doing your part to reduce your carbon footprint."

Arthur snickered and she laughed with him as she came around to help him button his shirt. He managed not to shiver when her fingers brushed across his skin. He saw the creamy expanse of skin normally hidden by her colorful scarves, the hollow between her small breasts and the way her eyes looked almost like molten gold. His breath caught, and he looked away a little guiltily. This wasn't a good idea. He was attracted to her -- he would've had to be blind not to be -- but he couldn't do anything about it. Screwing around with coworkers, no matter how tempting, was never a good idea. He had to remind himself of that. Mal and Cobb had been the exception to the rule, and even that had gone so spectacularly wrong. He had to learn from that example and not make that same mistake.

She sat back and cast her eyes over his appearance. "Were you planning to wear the sweater vest over the shirt? You look really good in that." At his stunned nod, she went looking for it and helped him wrangle the vest around his casted arm. "How in the world did you manage this yesterday on your own?" she asked in amazement.

"I'm flexible," he responded without thinking. At her amused smile, he couldn't help but smile in return. "This is really above and beyond the help I expected, you know."

"Yeah, well, I've always been a bit of an overachiever. I hope you don't mind croissants for breakfast? I figured I'd make coffee or whatever here."

"That's good. I don't normally eat breakfast," he admitted.

"Maybe that's why you fell the other day?" Ariadne asked, moving to the kitchen where she had set the bakery box. "You know, lightheaded and all that? I know I can get dizzy if I don't eat right. I get that way all the time when I'm pulling in extra hours on a project." She brought the box over to Arthur so he didn't even have to move. "Here. Pick one and I'll get coffee started for us."

"I can walk, you know," Arthur said dryly, taking out a croissant with his left hand.

Ariadne's smile was wide and guileless. "Of course you can. But you need to keep your strength up, right?"

Arthur's mind started running down an entirely inappropriate track for that comment. "I suppose," he managed to say in a neutral tone. He had to wrangle his thoughts in order. Really, this was getting out of hand. Maybe Eames actually had a point about getting laid on a regular basis.

Dammit. He had to be bad off if he was agreeing with Eames about something.

Breakfast chatter was idle and safe, and Arthur felt more like himself by the time Ariadne drove him to the office space they were leasing. Eames wasn't in yet, as he was no doubt following their subject to see who seemed nearest and dearest. Cobb was on the phone, arguing about times and schedules, so Arthur guessed that it was their employer for this particular job. That pretty much left Arthur and Ariadne to do whatever needed to be done. It was easy enough to fire up his laptop to check for messages from contacts or try to go into databases. It was awkward to nudge the mouse with his right hand, but it was even more awkward to try to move it with his left. Ariadne looked up from the folders she was organizing for him and rolled her eyes. "Shove over. You tell me where to click and we'll get through this faster."

They worked side by side, and she occasionally made comments about the replies he had received or the half dozen different covert networks he had access to. Thankfully, she didn't ask how he had gotten access; he really didn't have any cover stories for most of them, considering he had never had anyone looking over his shoulder as he did his work. If not for the pain meds, he might have tried doing a lot of this the night before. As it was, most of the time they made him groggy enough that it wasn't safe replying to messages or trying to hack accounts with enough of a safety net to keep from getting caught.

"I don't think I realized how complicated this part was," Ariadne admitted when she forced Arthur to take a break for lunch. He would have kept on going, delving deeper into the subject's financial records. "Ten years is far enough back, isn't it?"

"Not always, and especially not if he's into dream sharing. I might have to go farther back or into his associates' accounts to see if there are names I recognize that might have taught him anything about the business."

"For militarizing his subconscious, you mean," Ariadne guessed.

"Exactly. I'm sure Eames will have a few likely targets for me to look up when he gets back. That would narrow it down. Generally I look into the entire family, sometimes extended family, as well as executive staff and anyone working on his direct level." He gave Ariadne a rueful smile. "It's only part of the job, you know."

Ariadne leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It left him stunned and wide eyed as she pulled back and smiled shyly. "I don't think they appreciate you enough, Arthur. Now come on. You need something to eat. The last thing we need is for you to get dizzy and fall, then break your other arm."

Laughing, he followed her out of the office.

***

"You two are getting cozy," Eames commented on his return to the office. He nodded at Cobb, who was still on the phone. Cobb didn't actually go out into the field anymore, but his years in dream share meant he had a lot of contacts that were able to help get them jobs. With Arthur's broken arm, he was taking it upon himself to help gather information on their subject through his network of contacts.

Ariadne looked up at Eames' comment. "Sorry. I didn't know you'd be back this afternoon, or I'd've brought back something for your lunch."

Eames shrugged. "I grabbed a bite on my way in, never fear. So, you've been spending time with our little stick in the mud." He grinned unrepentantly at Arthur's obvious umbrage with the comment. "Considering he's never let me _look_ at his data, let alone organize it, what's it looking like?"

"I'm right here," Arthur said, a slight trace of bitterness in his tone.

"Of course you are." Eames came around to take a look at the computer, but Ariadne closed it. "Darling, I'm only trying to help."

"Do you have a list of people that our subject hangs out with?" Ariadne asked sweetly. "We can start looking them up, too."

"Sure you don't need help with that?"

"I think we're good," Arthur replied, managing not to growl at Eames. He liked working with Ariadne, which had surprised him. He was used to working alone for this, and had thought he could be more efficient that way. But delving into various archives had brought out the easy cameraderie that they had together. Ever since the prep work for the Fischer job, they had always seemed to click. He found he liked that, and it made a very solitary part of his job that much more enjoyable.

Slightly miffed, Eames nodded and produced a list of names for them. "I happen to think the Vice President is entirely too chummy with the mark," Eames said. "I'd start there."

"Thank you," Ariadne said warmly. "I don't know how we'd do this without you."

"Yes, well, you couldn't," Eames replied, mollified. "Take a lesson from Ariadne, Arthur. Gratitude is nice once in a while."

"I'll remember that when it's earned," Arthur answered.

Ariadne couldn't help but shake her head. "I swear, it's like being back in high school sometimes."

"Oh, no, this is worse," Arthur disagreed, pushing open the laptop. "In high school, rivals aren't able to shoot semiautomatics at each other."

"Good point," Ariadne allowed. "Come on, we've work to do."

***

"This isn't my apartment."

"Well, considering my culinary skills are limited to pasta, mac and cheese and microwave dinners, I figured you'd want a change of pace." Ariadne grinned at him. "I even made reservations for us and everything."

She had been at his beck and call for the past week and a half, which was pleasant and maddening at the same time. She arrived in the morning with croissants, helped him get dressed the rest of the way as the coffee brewed, then drove him into work. She took him out for lunch after spending all morning playing secretary for him, and did the same in the afternoons. They were starting to get a feel for the subject and the thought patterns he might have, which had been confirmed by Eames' observations in the field. The three of them had spent this particular afternoon talking about how best to approach the job, and Ariadne thought she might be able to start sketching a dream layer the next day.

Arthur did as best as he could with his left hand to feed himself, which had gotten better over the past week and a half. Ariadne had playfully fed him several times at his apartment, but thankfully she didn't try it here. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would have thought this was a date. It was a nice restaurant, tasteful wine he recommended and conversation about personal things that had nothing to do with work.

The frightening thing about it was that he enjoyed himself entirely too much.

He drank a little more wine than he had planned, which led to him stumbling a bit into his apartment. Stupid fourth floor walkup, even if it was the most easily defensible apartment in the building. He had forgotten that alcohol and pain medication didn't mix well, and he was feeling more than a little fuzzy around the edges. He collapsed heavily onto his couch with Ariadne's help, and he looked up at her as she helped to undo the buttons on his shirt and wrangle his sweater vest over his cast. He smiled muzzily at the scribbled designs on it, most of them courtesy of Ariadne. Yusuf had drawn a few cartoonish faces on it, and Arthur had painstakingly scribbled over the vile speech bubbles Eames had added to them. "I like your art," he murmured, feeling her fingers brush across his bare skin.

"I'm glad," she said, lips twitching into a smile. He must have told her a few times already, then. "You should probably get to bed."

"You should probably help me," Arthur told her, mouth engaged before his brain was. "I don't know if I can get the other buttons off on my own. Did you set the room to spinning?"

"No, I didn't. I told you we shouldn't have had wine with dinner."

"By itself it's not a bad thing," he said, looking up at her through his eyelashes. "And your cheeks get this really beautiful pink color to them when you have some wine. I really wanted to see that." Her lips parted slightly, and Arthur realized what he said. "You know, that's a good color on you," he said hastily, reaching out to touch her scarf with his left hand. It was mauve, with a blue and black abstract design printed into the silk.

"You're drunk," she said with a smile.

"Maybe a little," Arthur agreed. "But it's still true."

Ariadne ran her fingers down his cheek. "You need to go to bed," she said, regret in her voice.

"I know what I'm saying," Arthur protested. She had to feel something, too. She wouldn't have volunteered to help like this otherwise, and she wouldn't give him those smiles and those looks if she wasn't interested. He pressed his left hand over hers on his face and reached out with his right arm to pull her in closer. "This isn't just me. It can't be."

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "You'll be so mad at yourself when you're sober," she murmured.

"Not if you feel the same way." He pulled her down into his lap. "You do, don't you? It isn't just me."

"No, it isn't." She gave him a soft smile. "You never really said..."

"I can't screw this up," he murmured, just before he leaned in to kiss her. She tasted like wine and the strawberry cheesecake she had for dessert, and her perfume was even more intoxicating than the wine had been. Arthur wound his good arm around her, hand spread wide across her back. Ariadne wound her arms around his shoulders, careful about his right one, and threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

This was everything he had dreamed of, and the best part of it was that this was real.

"That's definitely not screwing up," Ariadne murmured when they broke the kiss.

Arthur was hesitant about asking her to stay over. He was still tipsy and on pain medication, and he didn't want this to be about pity or feeling sorry for him. If she was to stay with him, it would be because she wanted to, and when he had the stamina to keep her up all night.

"I should probably get going," she said after a while, though she made no move to get off of his lap.

Arthur buried his face in the crook of her neck. "It's really late, and you'd just get here early enough in the morning. You could stay."

"I don't know..."

"On the couch, I mean." Ariadne smiled at his hasty words. "If you want to." He didn't want to ask for too much, and yet he also didn't want her to leave.

She leaned into his arms and kissed him thoroughly, leaving him breathless. He had visions of curling up with her in bed, of holding her like this for hours. "You sure that's where you want me to be?" she teased.

He smiled at her. "No, but there's time enough for the rest of it, isn't there?"

"I dunno... Don't you need help getting into bed, maybe?"

Arthur had to laugh at the hopeful lilt to her voice. "All right, then. How about you help me out, there, too?" She refused to leave his side, even after helping him strip down and get ready for bed. She borrowed one of his T shirts to sleep in, and crawled into bed beside him, curling up so that he could put his left arm around her. "Thanks for everything, Ariadne," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Arthur."

The End


End file.
